


A Congress of Newts and Serpents

by Perhapsormaybe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Maybe comedy?, Relationship advice is given, happy endings, i think it's funny, thank you, this is fluffier than I intended, this year is a garbage fire so I will indulge in as much sweet fanfic as I want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Anathema storms out after a dinner gone wrong, leaving Crowley to have to give Newt a ride home. Which makes Newt get it into his head that surely the demon can give him a bit of advice on the love front?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	A Congress of Newts and Serpents

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to cassieoh for the title! Thank you! This came out fluffier than I'd originally intended but I'm quite happy with it, even if it took me unexpected places. Just a little one shot that hopefully brings a smile to your face.

“The point is,” Anathema continued, “That you had no right to say that!”

“I'm just saying, maybe we should go back home to discuss this?” Newt glanced at Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale looked concerned. Crowley was smirking in that way that meant he thought he was about to get a lot of free entertainment. 

“Home?” She was seething. She grabbed his keys off of the table in the entry way. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I will absolutely see you at home. You can find your own way there.”

She slammed the door behind her and Newt stood there, watching her go. He had some inkling he was meant to chase after her, but another part of his brain was arguing that it was something that one only did in romantic comedies. She would calm down. Eventually. Right?

“What exactly did you do?” Crowley couldn't hide his delight. Sure, he was very kind for a demon, but he was still, at heart, a demon. “I don't think I've ever seen her so mad.”

“It's not like we've known them that long, Crowley,” Aziraphale poked him. 

“I just said that I thought it was silly to go around lighting sage in the cottage. She said it would cleanse the air or something, and maybe get rid of demons?” he ran his hand through his already messy hair, somehow making it worse in the process. “I pointed out that might mean Crowley couldn't come around and she said something about well of course it makes exceptions for _him_ he's one of the good guys. And it's just...I believe in science and I don't understand all of this new age stuff. I'm trying, I swear!” He spared a quick glare at the leftovers from tonight's dinner – sage encrusted chicken. It had brought the fight from this morning right back, after he'd thought they'd already worked it out. 

“Well, dear boy,” Aziraphale chuckled. “It may be 'new age' to you, but I can assure you it's existed for centuries. Nothing new under the sun, as they say.”

“Who says that? I don't say that,” Crowley shook his head and went to get himself a drink. They were all in his flat. Aziraphale had thought it would be a good idea to get the humans to come around every so often while they all waited to see if Heaven or Hell would make another move. So far, all that had happened was that they'd learned Newt was a lightweight and that Anathema got angry after just one drink (though she never seemed actually drunk ...just ...angry). 

“You do have to meet in the middle,” Aziraphale continued as though Crowley hadn't interrupted him. “It's alright if you don't quite believe the same things, but it isn't kind to patronize.”

“I didn't think I was being patronizing...”

“But you may have come across that way, even without intending it. How long have you known Ms. Device?”

“I mean...we met the day we all had to stop Adam from blowing up the world.”

“So just a few weeks, then. It can be hard to build a relationship that quickly.”

Neither one of them could see Crowley rolling his eyes behind his shades. “It was quick,” Newt admitted. “Do you think it means we're wrong for each other?”

“I think, Newton, that you should go home, get some sleep and talk to Anathema in the morning. Perhaps you should sleep on the couch tonight, let her have the bed,” Aziraphale clapped him gently on the back. “Crowley will take you, since she took your car.”

“I'll take him? News to me. Why don't _you_ take him, angel?”

“I couldn't – what would be the point? I don't have a car. He'd have to take the bus and at this hour those can be impossible to come by!”

“You could miracle one up for him-”

“I will not perform a frivolous miracle when you could just take him in your car,” Aziraphale insisted. “It would be much faster than the bus, anyway. The way you drive, so long as you don't get yourselves into an accident, you'll probably be there and back in half an hour.”

“I'm sorry, so long as we don't get into an accident?” Newt repeated.

He was ignored. “Fine!” Crowley threw his hands up. “I'll take him. Are you going home now, then or did you want a ride, too?”

“No, no, I thought I'd stay here until you get back. I have some thoughts I wanted to run by you.”

“Fine,” Crowley said again. “You, awkward human,” Newt frowned but didn't correct him. They both knew that Crowley knew his name. “Let's get going. The sooner we leave the sooner I can get back and take a nap.”

“Haven't you been drinking?”

“He's right, Crowley. Sober up, first.”

Crowley groaned and shook the alcohol from his system. “There? Happy? All back in the bottle for later. Can we please just go?” He flung the apartment door open and gestured for Newt to go out. Newt scurried along, out the door, through the hallway, down the stairs and finally to where the Bentley was parked in all its glory. He'd seen the car before, but he'd never been in it. He didn't know very much about cars, but he knew just enough to know this was expensive and old. 

He climbed into the front seat and buckled in. Crowley got in on the driver's side and started the engine. 

“Wait, don't you need to turn the headlights on?”

“Ugh...if it will make you feel better,” Crowley nodded and the lights came on. Then he reversed the car and headed off in the direction of Tadfield. 

“It's just...” The words poured out of Newt before he could think better of it, “I don't see what the big deal is. I really wasn't trying to upset her or anything. I thought relationships were about sharing your opinions. But ...maybe it's not a great idea to form a relationship based on a book...”

“A book?”

“Yeah. Agnes Nutter. She predicted us together. Apparently marriage as well.”

“Ah.”

“So. Stupid reason, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

Newt hadn't expected that. “But she got everything right! Agnes predicted every little thing we needed to survive. How can you say that it's stupid?”

“Because _you_ said that it's stupid. I was just agreeing with you. Did you want me to say 'oh, no, you're wrong. Perfectly logical to let an ancient witch decide who you should be with and who you should marry. Most obvious thing in the world, that'?”

“Maybe not,” Newt shrunk into the passenger seat, vaguely aware that he was sulking. “I guess it's not as good as overcoming everything you and Aziraphale have, but you can't really compare us – we're just human. I mean, she's a witch but -”

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Crowley had brought the car to an abrupt stop. Newt's whole body jerked as they went from impossibly fast to standing still. He felt a little fuzzy, but fully aware that had Crowley not cushioned the blow that could have done some serious damage to him. 

“She's a witch, literally. I'm not calling her names-”

“Not that, I know about her being a witch,” Crowley was acting funny. His tone of voice was bored, like he didn't want to have the conversation. But Newt knew enough about body language to gather that Crowley was very interested in what Newt had to say right now. “What's that about me and Aziraphale?”

“Well, you're together, aren't you? So I figure you had to fight all of Hell and maybe all of Heaven, too, just to be together.”

“We're not,” Crowley didn't finish his argument. “He and I are friends. I mean...really good friends.”

“Aren't you in love with each other?” And now Newt was absolutely baffled. He'd had best friends before. None of them looked at him the way Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Not that he'd ever seen, anyway. “I thought you were together. Anathema-” now he trailed off, suddenly reminded of the fight. “Look, no matter what you two are to each other, I know you've fought before. How did you deal with it?”

“Probably the same way you dealt with fights with your mates in the past,” Crowley started his car back up again but didn't start driving. They were sitting still, parked on the side of the road. He looked deep in thought. 

Newt was many things. Awkward, bad with electronics, maybe a little on the odd side. But he wasn't dumb. “Look, if I fight with friends it's never about anything _important_. And they get loads of time away from me, so if they're mad at me I don't have to worry about going to bed alone.”

“Those aren't things I have to worry about. I mean, I don't worry about going to bed alone. I do go to bed alone... I just don't worry about it, I mean.” The car started moving, but it wasn't lost on Newt that Crowley was driving the speed limit. He wondered for a moment if it was the first time Crowley had ever obeyed traffic laws.

“Fine. Indulge me. Hypothetical. If you and Aziraphale were in love and you had a fight-”

“Why do you need to bring him into this hypothetical? Why not just say 'if you were in love with someone and had a fight with them'?”

“Fine! _If_ you were in love with someone, anyone, doesn't matter who, and they were very angry at you, what do you do about it? Especially when you never put in the ground work to be together in the first place?”

To his credit, Crowley did seem to be pondering the question sincerely. “Complained to the wrong people, mostly.”

“Complained? Not ...would complain? You're talking like you _have_ been in this situation.”

“Not the part about being fated to be together by someone, obviously. Um...you've heard of the,” Crowley snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the correct phrasing. “The friend zone!” he looked triumphant when the word came to him. 

“Yes,” Newt said slowly. He'd used the phrase himself as a teen once, and had been quickly reprimanded by his mother. He had learned to be wary of the kind of people who used it.

“That was mine, but it was an accident, swear it. I was just in a bar complaining to someone, and obviously I'd had a bit too much ...I said to this guy, 'you know, an out and out rejection would be fine, but it's not like I haven't been obvious about the whole thing. I may not have said the words but all my actions were you know...implying, and this person is smart, they can do book analysis and tell you why the curtains were blue or some such so why can't they read between the lines for me?' And this ...this asshole comes up with a story about some girl he was friends with and was being nice to all the time and how she only wanted to be friends and it was obviously the same as my thing, she'd lead him on by being nice to him. And, Newt?”

“Er-yeah?”

“I was just drunk enough and feeling just evil enough to goad him on with that. That was...I want to tell you the seventies – the nineteen seventies, but I can't remember for sure now. It was stupid.”

“So who was it then?”

“I already told you. Some asshole in a bar.”

“Not the friend zone guy! Who were you complaining about not realizing you're in love with them?”

“You know damn well,” Crowley grumbled. “Everyone knows except that idiot. Especially all the other people in bars I've complained to for the last several thousand years. He's so clever but he's so stupid-”

“Are you sure you sobered yourself up all the way?” Newt checked that his seat belt was fully secure. 

Crowley ignored him. “The point is, Agnes got everything else right so she's probably right about you two. Do you _like_ Anathema?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then take an interest in her interests. You ever seen something that makes her just,” Crowley clenched one fist for emphasis, the other remaining lazily on the wheel, “Just light up? Something that makes her so excited it's like the rest of the world drops away and maybe it does for you, too, because you're so focused on how happy she looks?”

“Once or twice...”

“And you don't want to do everything you can to make her look like that any chance possible?”

“Yes. ...Yes, I do. But I'm a little surprised you're willing to give advice on this. Or talk about it at all. You don't usually say much to me.”

“I talk when there's something worth saying. ...what do you know about glaciers?”

Newt stared at Crowley like he thought the demon had gone completely mad. “Uh- just that they're melting awfully fast, what with the greenhouse gases and-”

“Remarkably slow things. Used to be, at least. Then global warming and the polar bears dying and – not my point. My point is, the glaciers were here when we got here. Him and me, I mean. Him and I? Me and him? ...right, anyway, there's this big one that's been there the whole time and it's moving really slowly. Like ...snails are out pacing this bastard, right? That thing is going to somehow circumnavigate the globe multiple times before he's going to want to talk about us.”

“Us?”

“Not you and I us, me and him us!”

“Oh, right. Right. So are you admitting-”

“Yes, yes, we're past all that. I'm in love with Aziraphale, big whoop, you figured it out. Again, you're not the first one to say something to me about it.”

“And you've ...told him since then?”

“Not technically. We got kind of close to talking about it once... He says I go too fast for him. So if I go too fast and there's a glacier out pacing him, where do we meet in the middle?”

“Is that where the 'glacial pace' phrase comes from? I never thought about it before,” Newt admitted. 

“Sorry. We're supposed to be talking about you and your witch, right? Look...I don't know what to tell you. Other than that she's an angry drinker so I would keep the stronger stuff out of the house. You can't be with a person just because a prophetess says you're meant to be. If you want to be with her, it should be because you _want_ to be with her. But make that clear to her.”

“I was trying. That was part of the argument, really. I was trying to point out that my not believing in everything was a good sign for us, because it meant I wanted to be with her for her and not because of Agnes.”

Crowley frowned, “Well, I do actually see your point on that one. But sometimes it matters how it's said.” 

Newt tried to look less astonished than he felt. Somewhere along the line, Crowley had decided to take the conversation seriously and actually offer help. Some part of the back of his brain tried to remind him that this was a demon, one who wasn't above still messing with people (though usually in mostly harmless ways). But he couldn't see if this was a trap or not. It seemed like friendly advice. 

Judging by how Crowley sped the car back up to his normal speeds (the speedometer was not at an angle Newt could see, and even if it were, they were now going a lot faster than it could measure), Newt figured the conversation was over. Crowley turned the radio on, which went from classical to “Bohemian Rhapsody” without either of them changing the station. 

They both pretended to be focused on the music until the car rolled up to Jasmine Cottage. “You'll be all right. I think you're kind of good for each other. Just make sure you're listening, but also make sure she listens to you. When you got together the world was ending so you had to do it quickly, but it's not ending anymore, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” Newt got out but left the door to the car open. “Crowley? Um. Thank you. For the advice and for being honest with me about you and - ...about your stuff. I hope all that works out for you. For what it's worth,” He wasn't sure he should continue. Newt was very good at putting his foot in his mouth, and he hoped this wasn't another one of those situations. “I think if you spoke to Aziraphale... he might be ready now. You wouldn't be rushing him or anything, not if you just told him what you want to talk about and then let him decide if he wants to have that conversation. I'm pretty sure...look, you don't see the way he's looking at you some of the times, but everyone else has noticed.”

“Whatever you say,” Crowley had adopted that bored tone again. He flicked his wrist and the car door shut itself, making Newt jump back in surprise. But the window was still open. “You and Bicycle Girl have a good night. Hope things work out.”

“Thanks, I-” But Crowley was already driving away. “Thanks, anyway. Right.” Newt squared up his shoulders and headed into the cottage, ready to talk. But he heard a honking noise and realized Anathema was pulling up in Dick Turpin now.

“How did you beat me home?” she demanded as she got out. “I was just about to turn around and go back for you, but I got this feeling that I shouldn't and-” she shook her head. 

“Crowley gave me a ride. Literal speed demon, that guy. Look, I wanted to talk to you..”

“I wanted to talk to you! I've done some reflecting and-”

“Anathema?” He interrupted. “I promise I'm going to listen this time, but can we please go inside first? We're literally in the middle of the road here.”

“Right...right.” She moved the car to its appropriate parking spot before they both went inside. And talked. And listened. And talked some more. They took turns talking and listening for the next several hours before they went outside to watch the sunrise the next day, neither of them having gotten any sleep. 

“Think we'll be all right?” He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing.

“Yeah, I think we will.”

* * *

Crowley had headed back immediately after dropping Newt off. Aziraphale, as he'd promised, was still in the flat where he'd been left. He'd brought a whole collection of books to keep himself occupied. He was curled up in a chair Crowley hadn't had before today ( _“Heaven's sake, more tartan?!_ Crowley thought to himself as he saw the plush chair Aziraphale had conjured up). He was reading an ancient looking book, a steaming cup of tea next to him.

“Crowley! How did it go?”

“S'Alright. I got him home in one piece, anyway.”

“Do you think they'll be alright? Human relationships can be so ...fickle.”

“Angel?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I still moving too fast for you?”

The question hung between them momentarily. Aziraphale sat up and put his book down on the floor. He seemed to be carefully considering his options. “I -what brought this on?”

“Does it matter? We've never talked about it. I am asking if you are ready to talk now – and telling you that if you aren't, it's ok.”

“No, I want to talk about it,” Aziraphale wiggled so that he was sitting up straight. “I'm sorry. You've done so much for me all these centuries and at first I thought – ah, well, this must be a trap. Then we had the Arrangement and I thought, well, fine, he just wants some time off from doing this work. But it was never about that, was it?”

“See, I thought I had been astoundingly obvious about it. Too obvious. Like one of those American John Grisham novels-”

“I don't like John Grishams-”

“I know, I know, cause they lack subtlety and all have the same plot. You've told me. But that's my point, isn't it? You were the Enemy, but you were the enemy who gives away a flaming sword God gave him because the humans might need it. I thought you were intriguing.”

“I'm not sure I'm ready yet. Not fully,” Aziraphale admitted. “I think my feelings are obvious enough at this point?” His eyes met Crowley's. “I hope so, at least. And if not...you can consider this a formal declaration.”

“A formal declaration?” Crowley repeated. He tried very hard not to smirk. The smirk won. “So this is your ...declaration of Intent to Begin Woo, then?”

“Ah, yes, exactly!” Aziraphale looked delighted by the idea. All these centuries and he still didn't always get sarcasm. Or he purposely chose to disregard it, in Crowley's case. Crowley could never be certain which one it was. 

“And how would that look?”

“It would be slow, but I could start coming around and bringing you flowers and talking to you about your day-”

“Other than the flowers, how is that different from what we're currently doing?”

“Because my intent is stated, of course!” Aziraphale looked affronted. “And now you know I'm not doing it just to be your friend, though I do still quite value your friendship. I rather like this idea...”

“It does let you set the pace,” Crowley admitted. “I want you to be comfortable with this.”

“I am quite comfortable, thank you. Comfortable enough to suggest that I ...sleep over?” A blush crept to his cheeks, but before Crowley could start teasing, he corrected. “I just mean sleep in this chair. It's quite comfortable. Not the bed. You'd take the bed. But it would make it easier for me to begin my wooing of you.”

“All right, then, Angel. You're on. But I expect to be uh...thoroughly woo-ed starting tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning, then! It's a date.”


End file.
